


Jeeves and the Short Attention Span

by clearinghouse



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Art, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Illustrated, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 15:31:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15270567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearinghouse/pseuds/clearinghouse
Summary: Bertie discovers that, upon suddenly encountering a soft-looking Jeeves in a soft-looking bed, other things of less importance are apt to fall by the wayside.—Written for the Jeeves and Wooster Gift Exchange 2018 on Tumblr.





	Jeeves and the Short Attention Span

**Author's Note:**

> The following is my gift for [thevalet](https://thevalet.tumblr.com/) for the [Jeeves and Wooster Gift Exchange](https://jeevesandwoosterexchange.tumblr.com/) 2018\. thevalet didn't request anything in particular, so I went with time-honored fluff. Enjoy!

I was rushing forward, head-on through the opened door that served as the barricade for the mysterious lair belonging to my man whom the world supposed to be nothing more than my valet, when it hit me. 

You see, I had been pushing along in something of a hurry, when it came at me like a speeding train. It knocked me clean across the jaw. Although, that’s only metaphorically speaking, because the thing that hit me was a realisation. Or, perhaps not so much a realisation, but a discovery. It was a discovery that socked the Wooster noggin solidly in its solar plexus.

Let me explain. In the centre of the scene that I had moments ago rushed blindly into, there was Jeeves. Jeeves’s hands were suspended in the air, clutching a book. I had noticed that detail first, upon entering. The book was held close to him, and a little above him, because he wasn’t really sitting upright enough to hold the thing in front of him. In other words, he was reading while in bed. The coverlet was drawn up to his elbows, and his pillow looked abundantly fluffy under his head. Undoubtedly, Jeeves had fluffed the thing himself. He seemed comfortable. Yes, comfortable is the word that presents itself to the mind, after careful reflection. Lying there in bed, Jeeves had the contented look of one who is perfectly comfortable.

Had you been there, you might have noticed that it was a trifle late for a decent chap like Jeeves to have the lights on, and to be in bed for any purpose other than sleep. On that point, I can clarify things. You see, this kind of self-improving reclination with books is Jeeves’s idea of fun. To put it in a nutshell, Jeeves was having the time of his life quietly reading something or other in the bedroom that belongs to him.

From my point of view, though, it was a shocker. A more dazzling sight than what was in front of me, I can’t imagine. There was Jeeves, wrapped in the soft layers, raising his two intelligent peepers from whatever nail-biter he’d been losing himself in, and turning them on me. Here was Jeeves, twitching the brow in mild concern and parting his lips to ask, “Yes, sir?” Here was Jeeves, and I hadn’t prepared myself for what an absolutely cosy picture he made. Even the most introverted of cats would have felt irresistibility driven to snuggle him.

The temptation was too great. I mean to say, he had the warm appearance of a freshly drawn hot bath, with the steam and rubber ducks and everything. I thought that he, too, like a hot bath, was giving off a sort of barely visible yet enticing steam, of the kind to beckon world-weary chaps to come and put his feet up in blissful tranquility. 

I don’t know how it happened, exactly. One moment, I was on one side of the room. In the next moment, I was at the other side. The bedroom, being a bedroom, wasn’t quite so large as to really have much of another side, so this left me pushing at the edge of Jeeves’s bed. In other words, suddenly I had gone to Jeeves.

Rich delight softened the man’s already soft-looking aspect. His own large, dressing-gowned arms opened wide to welcome me. The book, while not abandoned, was at least held out of the way.

Time was not wasted on giving this new development too much thought. The young master’s senses were no longer his own. Immediately, I let myself fall like a domino into his arms. 

The physics of the thing worked out that I was soon more on the bed than off it. My arms were lost within his. I even nuzzled his cosy-looking face, embarrassing an action though it is to admit in the cold, sober light of reason. The fact of the matter was his handsome face looked too cosy not to nuzzle. Besides for that, he was warm and cosy, and I daresay he smelled warm and cosy, too. I am certain that I said something, and that I said it with fondness and relish. It was probably along the lines of, “What-ho, old thing!”

“Good evening, sir.” Yes, it was evening, I suppose, so he wasn’t wrong. I don’t mention it because it’s an important detail, though. It’s just what he said. Jeeves himself is what is important to reflect upon. And there was a lot of him for reflecting upon. His immaculately clean-shaven cheek was velvet to the touch, his grip on me was confident, and his deep voice was affectionate and pleased. I’ve been told that low sounds from instruments are liable to cause a feeling of reverberation through the body, if they are low enough, and his voice was currently having this precise reverberation effect on me. 

By the way, I should reiterate that his very gentle but very large arms were still all around me. The smooth texture and pleasant weight of his dressing gown’s sleeves were gladly received by my own parsimoniously-muscled corpus. It helped that I was in my pink pyjamas, which offered less than no resistance to embraces of this sort. I would have been all right with Jeeves’s arms pressing however much they liked. I was more than willing to be fixed in place amidst two arms that evidently liked me as much as I liked them. With them, I was totally at peace. I was warm and safe as a chick in an egg. There wasn’t a single trouble in the world to concern oneself with.

Jeeves’s fathomless voice reached me as kindly as a whisper. “Sir,” he said, “I have been aware for some time of a noise proceeding from some disturbance that is currently proceeding in the flat.”

“Eh,” I murmured noncommittally. On this troublesome new topic, my position was simply that there couldn’t be any disturbances, of any kind, anywhere.

However, Jeeves continued resolute in his views. “I cannot help but detect the voices of several of your acquaintances from a short distance away. I have gathered that several of them seem most desirous that some species of solution be arrived at, although I lack enough information to enter into greater detail in regards to the problem that may be inferred to exist.”

My mind was too much in a happy, drunken stupor to really follow what Jeeves was saying. I managed to grasp a handle on the basics. “Never mind the noise, Jeeves. It’s... It’s... ” I had to force myself to recover my memory a little. “It’s just some of the boys.” At least, I thought that might have been it. “They sent me to field your advice on pinching some statue, or something.” I gave up on this, and redirected my energies into hugging Jeeves more tightly. Jeeves has a way of seeming larger than life, when I’m up this close to him, and right now, he was the absolute world to me.

“Shall I dress and offer them my assistance, sir?”

I groaned. I didn’t want him to go. Although his feudal urge to be of service is admirable in most cases, this was not one of those. “They’ll lose interest, if we ignore them. They’re like bears. If we leave them alone, they’ll go away.”

“I regret to say that I do not share your confidence, sir. While I do not believe that these particular gentlemen have reached that undesirable level of situational alertness required for them to question the meaning for your extended stay in my bedroom, it is not impossible that one or two of them will be driven by impulse to unwelcome wandering. For example, one of them may suppose that some emergency has befallen this bedroom’s occupants, and will proceed to assume the role of the hero by volunteering to ascertain our present state of health. It would be unfortunate if any of your acquaintances forced an entry into this bedroom, under the—present circumstances.”

“That’s an awfully specific scenario, Jeeves, isn’t it?”

“I merely draw from the near-misses of past experience, sir.”

I heaved a bucketful of a sad exhale. The thought of letting go of him was a drag on the spirit. Have I said that I preferred to have him stay with me in bed? My man was awfully comfortable, you know. In protest to his leaving me, I dug myself deeper into the valley of Jeeves. I whined manfully, “Jeeves…”

But Jeeves knows my weak spots. He gave me his signature half-smile, the kind that never fails to buck me up after a long, stressful day. His bookless hand rubbed the back of my shoulder, as well, and it was hypnotically soothing to the senses. “Is it not your motto, sir,” he said, gracing me with the twinkling eye that expects great things from me and believes in me, “that a Wooster may not abandon his friends?”

My eyes popped. A sad exhale in reply to this would have been staggeringly insufficient. An insult. Tantamount to a joke. It amazed me that this soft pillow of a toasty thirty-seven degrees had spoken in such a bold vein. I could give no defense against my own code. “But—! But what about... what about... ?” My capacity for logic had floundered somewhat in the last few minutes.

With an expression that was, in my opinion, far too amused, Jeeves kissed me charmingly on the forehead. “No, you need not worry, sir.”

My flustered heart pounded like a drum. I sputtered dreadfully.

“You may rely upon me to see to the problem myself,” Jeeves said calmly. “It is my pleasure to be of service, when I am in a position to do so. You need not trouble yourself over what is likely to prove a small issue. I expect that I will be able to provide a satisfactory solution in short time, and therefore be gone for only a moment.”

Then, to my dismay, he removed me from the comforting cage of his limbs, stood up, slid on the slippers, and floated to the door. I missed him already.

From where I remained on the bed, I heard about twenty hundred Drones Club members throw a great chorus of “Jeeves!” up into the air like a round of merry Oxford caps.

Silently, I pouted. My friends were about to have Jeeves to themselves. It was all because they had some self-invented problem that wanted hammering out, while I didn’t. Problemless Wooster, that’s what I was. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair. But, as Jeeves said, it’s not a Wooster’s lot to hoard his marvellous valet. A Wooster must live by his code of putting others first.

“Good evening,” Jeeves said from within the threshold of the door. “Unfortunately, I will not be able to help you at this time. I regret to inform you all that Mr Wooster has just taken ill, and requires that I look after him. If the issue could wait until tomorrow morning, I would be happy to devote myself to your dilemma. If you would be so kind as to select the most literary of you who might leave a note concerning the particulars of the problem, so that I may devote myself to its resolution during my leisure time tomorrow. Thank you.”

He closed the door on a spectacular series of their irritated gasps and moans, and turned his twinkling eye back to me.

End.


End file.
